I miss blogging.
Compulsively sharing like I did in years past. Creating posts, spilling my thoughts, sharing comments with others whose blogs I adored.
Facebook and Twitter ate blogging. Like men on Thanksgiving. Never looking back. Just loosened their pants and ate some more.
Old posts still comfort me, remind me, make me laugh...and cry. I sometimes wonder where the creativity came from. And where it went. Is it still in me and coming out in different forms? Yes, I suppose that's the case. Gardening has increased, cooking and baking improved, soul-searching prioritized. Perhaps this is my season of reflection, of soaking up rather than spilling out.
Yes, I miss blogging. Visiting my old haunts feels like visiting ghost towns now; some of my favorite authors last posts are dated years ago. Many blogs have been deleted. Some remain and cherish them I do.
Makes me sad. Facebook isn't the same. It's fun and informative. But just not the same as a well formed post by a thoughtful friend.
Embracing the void, feeling the grief, refusing to move on.
(Hey, this feels really good. Maybe it's okay to blog in obscurity.)